I just learned several days ago that what was seen as an accident was not an accident. Really, all that's going through my head is what I could have done. It drives me crazy to wonder. Through all the pain she had, her final act was dying in a way that no one would assume was intentional, to protect the people who loved her. Her family doesn't know, though her sister somewhat suspected it, since they were fighting in the end and she had so many other things going wrong. I learned from a friend that she'd sent him some strange messages just before her accident, telling him not to worry about a few things they'd planned the next week, she loved him, what have you.

When I first learned of the accident, I was furious with her. How could she be so careless? I'd enter and exit waves of shock and grief, I'd be OK one moment, make plans to do something to keep busy, and the next crumple wherever I was in a fit of tears and physically painful loss, like my chest was sore from the hurting. I didn't leave bed much for a couple weeks once the pain really set in. I missed her so much, in a way that I can't describe. Learning now that it was intentional, I feel a new evolution of emptiness. I feel responsibility.

She wasn't selfish, she was in an amount of pain that I understand, and have tried and failed previously to act on. While I wish she could have just gotten through that time, and seen all that everyone else could see coming for her future, I mostly just wish I had called her more, or never bailed on plans, and most of all, I just wish for every second I had with her back. She was a wonderful, cheery person with a lot of hidden darkness that was hard to see outside of rare vulnerable moments. Even then, she'd apologize for crying, she'd regret feeling so sad over things that, in her mind, weren't worth all the fuss. She was a person that you instantly wish would be your friend, and I was lucky enough to call her mine. I'm grateful for the time we had, and though I sometimes feel angry with her, I mostly feel sorry that she felt like that was her only option.

I keep her memorial booklet in my car, it has a silly photo of her on the front, and it reminds me what driving your car off a bridge does to people that care.